


Burden of Proof

by DodgerBear



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Enemies to Lovers, Ian is a public defender, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Mickey is a detective
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:41:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27658316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DodgerBear/pseuds/DodgerBear
Summary: Mickey Milkovich has been a cop for so long he thinks he's seen it all. But nothing could have prepared him for how much his life would change when a sensitive case drags him between two brothers. Ian and Lip go head to head in the courtroom, both determined to win at any cost.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 78
Kudos: 110





	1. One

The open plan room of cops fell quiet when Detective Mickey Milkovich walked in with his cup of coffee in one hand and his black leather jacket in the other. It was a mild September morning and he was about to start a twelve hour shift that would see him travel every square mile of the city in search of bad guys. He lived for this shit. 

“MILKOVICH! GET IN HERE!”

He raised his eyebrows and dropped his stuff on his desk by the window. It was on the 14th floor and only had views of the parking garage across the street but he’d served his time in the precinct and he was owed a goddamn window seat. 

“NOW!”

His boss, Captain Ron Baker, was in his office at the far side of the room and still his voice carried enough to make Mickey uneasy. 

“Who pissed on his cornflakes?”

Mickey’s partner snickered from his spot on the desk next to Mickey’s. “Oh you really screwed the pooch this time Mick.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Thought I told you I don’t wanna know what you get up to at the weekends, Gaspard.”

Gaspard chuckled and pointed to the captain’s office. “Run along now. You’re gonna get your ass pounded. And not in the way you normally like.”

Mickey flipped him off and trudged to the office, with Gaspard humming Chopin’s Funeral March loud enough for everyone to hear. 

“Sup boss?” He greeted Baker cheerfully. 

“Shut the door.” Baker snapped in reply. 

Mickey grinned and complied. “Shame. Those guys really wanted to hear you kick my ass.”

Baker looked up from his papers and glared at Mickey. “Don’t worry. They’ll hear.”

Mickey’s smile slipped and he dropped into the chair opposite Baker. “The fuck have I done now?”

“You tell me.”

Mickey huffed out a loud breath. “I gotta play guessing games with my five year old niece over breakfast and now I gotta play them here too?”

“This is not a joke, Mickey!” Baker snapped. “You wanna tell me why I got the desk jockey downstairs blowing up my phone about a guy with a broken nose?”

Mickey frowned. “The fuck?”

“You know full well what I’m talking about. Start talking.”

Mickey folded his arms across his chest defensively. “The creepy old pedo from the Northside?”

Baker nodded once, ever so slightly and Mickey sighed. “We executed the warrant, he bolted. Didn’t seem all that keen on joining me for a chat. Went face first down a few steps. That’s it. I didn’t touch him.”

“He says you did. Claiming brutality.”

Mickey snorted loudly. “Course he is. He also claiming that kiddie porn downloaded itself?”

Baker rubbed his temples with his fingertips. “Mickey. You gotta be smarter than this.”

A bubble of rage rose in Mickey’s chest. “Smarter? Smarter than what? It was a clean collar. I never touched the guy. If he’s saying anything to the fucking contrary he’s a goddamn liar and I want every camera on the block checked so I can fucking prove it.”

Baker exhaled and his expression softened. “I believe you. It’s just...this ain’t the time to be giving people more of an excuse to hate the badge.”

Mickey’s entire face clouded over and his lip curled into a snarl. “Don’t fucking do that. With all due respect, sir, I am not out there on a power trip and hurting people. I’m clean as a fucking whistle but I’m not gonna apologize for getting pedophiles off the streets.”

Baker scoffed and removed his glasses. “You know when a sentence starts with all due respect...”

Mickey shrugged belligerently. “I do respect you. I just want the same in return. I’ve done this job a long time and I do it properly. That’s all there is to it.”

“Yeah well just a heads up. The DA’s office has got wind of it and they’re not happy. This guy was on their hit list for a long time. If he casts enough of a shadow on his collar then they could have problems.” Baker explained. 

Mickey swiped his bottom lip with his tongue and leaned over with his elbows on his knees. “There is no shadow. He was seen outside a junior high school. Uniform picked him up with binoculars in his car. He got off on a bullshit circumstantial. We surveilled him for two weeks going back to the school. The DA’s office signed off on the warrant. We executed it by the fucking book. We found shit on his computer that will haunt my fucking dreams. And I’m getting heat because he hit the skids trying to run away? Fuck that shit. If the DA can’t make an airtight case outta what I gave them they should be the ones being fucking defunded.” 

Baker shook his head and couldn’t keep the smirk off his face, as much as he obviously tried. Mickey knew he was a fucking good detective. It made him insufferable to manage at times. 

“Get some cameras. Get statements. Get this tied up with a cute fucking bow before the DA comes calling. And for fuck sake, do not cause any ripples with them. I’m still on the Commissioner’s shit list for the stunt you pulled at the Christmas party.”

Mickey rose to his feet. “Some suits just can’t take a joke. How was I supposed to know someone had already spiked the punch? Am I good to go?”

Baker waved his hand dismissively. “Get out of my sight.”

Ben Gaspard was waiting for Mickey when he got out of Baker's office. He was nearing 50 and, all jokes and banter aside, was the best partner Mickey ever had. They were like Benson and Stabler. Lisbon and Jane. Booth and Bones. Two completely different people but like the same mind when it came to work. When Mickey made Detective six years earlier at the tender age of 29, Gaspard was assigned the new kid and they never looked back. They wound each other up and they pissed each other off but they were tight. Professional ride or dies. Gaspard’s dark hair had started to turn silver in places over the years, for which he blamed Mickey and his maverick style of policing, but he was still a good looking older man with pale blue eyes that told stories without words. Mickey didn’t know what he was going to do when Gaspard retired in a few years. He didn’t want to break in a new partner. It was worse than having a puppy. 

“Well?”

Mickey rolled his eyes and took a swig of his lukewarm coffee. “Just giving me some feedback on my personal skills.”

“Ah. I see.” Gaspard smirked. “He mention the Christmas party?”

Mickey scoffed a laugh. “Course he did. I’m gonna be long dead before he stops mentioning that fucking party. It’d be easier for me to invent a time machine, go back and unspike the goddamn punch!”

“Nobody had ever seen the Mayor drunk in public before. It was an iconic scene.” Gaspard snickered. 

Mickey drained his coffee and slipped on his jacket. “You ready? We’ve got some stuff to do before the DA comes looking for me.”

Gaspard saluted his protégé and rose to his feet. “Let’s go.”

By lunchtime Mickey had everything he needed. He’d never been worried about the situation - it _was_ a clean collar and he _knew_ there would be cameras to prove it - but he couldn’t help being frustrated by it. This job meant a lot to him. Being a kid with a juvie record was seriously limiting to your options so when the police academy accepted him and he passed out of basic with high praise, he knew he had to make it work. His father had been so disgusted when he’d heard the news. 

“A fag and a cop?” Terry had sneered. “What the fuck did I do wrong with you?”

From the other side of the bulletproof glass in a prison upstate, Mickey had just smiled serenely at the man who gave him life. “I would write a list for you, but I’m too busy rounding up your buddies and shipping them up here.”

That was the last time he’d seen his father. About fifteen years earlier. Time passed but the hatred remained and Mickey threw in a Thanksgiving prayer every year that someone would do the right thing and shank his father in the joint. 

He made it back to the office with all his evidence with his eyes firmly on the meatball sub he had lined up for lunch. Baker’s door was closed and there was a silhouette of two people inside so Mickey sat down and started to unwrap his sub. 

“Smells good.” Gaspard slumped into his chair and opened up the box of chicken salad his wife made for him. Sure, he’d put on a few pounds over the last couple of years but the constant salads were just painful. 

“Joni cares about you. Wants you around for a long time not just a good time.” Mickey smiled at his scowling partner. 

“Who the fuck is having a good time here? Me and my fucking rabbit food or you and that sexy ass sub?” Gaspard muttered and prodded his chicken with his fork like he was trying to kill it all over again. “You need to couple up and have someone decide how you eat for the rest of your fucking life.”

Mickey snorted and chewed with his mouth open. “Fuck no. That’s exactly why I don’t want to be in a relationship! I like that I make my own choices, shitty or otherwise.”

Gaspard nodded. “I feel that. But there’s advantages.”

“Oh yeah? Like?” Mickey challenged. 

“I dunno. The fluffy shit. Stuff guys want but don’t talk about. Someone who is always there for you. Gives hugs. Talks about your day. Someone who gives a shit about you.” 

“Benjamin. Eat your goddamn rabbit food.” Mickey cut him off. 

It wasn’t that Mickey disagreed with his partner. In fact, he completely agreed. That fluffy shit that guys don’t talk about was something he actually wanted. He’d dated in the past, a couple of times even for a decent stretch of time, but whenever the relationship was reaching the point of having the ‘where is this going?’ chat, Mickey already had one foot out of the door. He was yet to meet the guy that would change that about him. Mickey lived a quiet life and he liked it that way. He didn’t need anyone messing up his head or his bed. 

“Mandy still crashing at your place?”

Mickey growled under his breath. “Yes. Only another couple of weeks though.”

Gaspard chuckled. “You’ll miss her when the place is empty again.”

“I will not.” Mickey retorted hotly. “Only thing I’ll miss is hanging with Princess Maddie every day. My sister is a loud, untidy slob who eats all my jello and never washes her dishes.”

Gaspard grinned and shook his head. “See? You need a guy so you can get married and have babies. You’d be a natural.”

Mickey levelled his partner with a stare that could cut diamonds. “Shut the fuck up.”

Gaspard raised his hands and smirked. “Whatever you say.”

He was just about to take another huge bite of his sandwich when Baker’s door flew open and a blond in a sharp suit stormed out. He was gone in the blink of an eye and Baker filled the space in his doorway. 

“MILKOVICH. GET IN HERE.”

Mickey threw his sub back in the bag and tossed it to Gaspard. “Swear to God that man is gonna be the end of me.”

Gaspard was already ripping into the bag and inhaling the meatball mess Mickey had left for him. “Go get em, tiger.”

Baker was reading through a file when Mickey closed his office door. 

“I got camera footage from five different angles that show me at least six feet away from the perv when he took a swan dive. Owner of the laundromat across the street was outside at the time and will verify I was nowhere near.” Mickey reeled off. 

Baker waved his hand. “I get it. You’re clean. That’s not why I got you here.”

Mickey raised his eyebrows. “Forgive me, boss. You seemed pretty set on your priorities this morning.”

Baker cut him a withering glare. “I just had the ADA in here and he’s pissed. Apparently he heard your name was linked to the case and he lost his shit. You know this guy?”

Mickey was stunned. He didn’t exactly move in the same circles as members of the District Attorney’s office. “The fuck is he?”

“Young hotshot the city pumped money into for law school. Southside, I think. Gallagher. That’s his name.”

“Gallagher?” Mickey repeated and started to laugh. “As in one of Frank Gallagher’s kids?”

“So you do know him?”

“Know _of_ the Gallaghers. Family is almost as fucked up as mine. How the fuck did any of Frank’s kids make it to ADA?” Mickey was now actually giggling with disbelief. 

“Got a full ride. Him and his brother. One went state prosecution and the other went public defender. Word on the street is your pervert perp has the brothers up against each other for the first time. Like the Klitschko brothers getting in the ring.”

Baker was gazing at Mickey and waiting to see if he had any insight to add. He didn’t. He barely knew the Gallagher family. He knew of Frank because his dad spent a lot of time and energy getting pissed that he never paid up for his narcotics. He knew Frank and his cuckoo wife had a house full of kids they couldn’t look after. Other than that, Mickey knew nothing. 

“Fuck’s all that gotta do with me?”

Baker shrugged. “That’s what I wanna know. He wants you off the case.”

“Off the case? Off the fucking case? It’s MY goddamn collar! Months of investigation. I’m interviewing him in half a damn hour! No way. Not a fucking chance!” Mickey was suddenly alert and furious. 

Baker smirked. “That’s what I told him you’d say.”

“Well I hope you fucking backed me up!”

“Course I did. But he’s gonna take some convincing. He seems to think that a perp with a broken nose and your name on the warrant ain’t such a shock. So go down there after your interview and smooth that shit over. Show him your footage and get him to relax. It’s too late now to get Gaspard trained for the witness box. That ship sailed with the fuckin Armada.”

Mickey got to his feet, seething with rage. “This is bullshit. Absolute fucking bullshit.”

“Don’t see me arguing do you? But Vitali wants to kick Wladimir’s professional ass and you, my friend, are just collateral damage at this point. Sort it out. Make him love you so much he wants you on every case he ever takes to court.”

Baker waved him out of his office and Mickey checked his watch. He was lined up to interview the suspect now and he was dead set on nailing his balls to the wall, the ADA would have to wait his turn. 

The DA’s office made Mickey’s office look like the fucking ghetto. It was all wood panelled walls and leather furniture. It was easy to see where the city’s money was spent. He strolled over to the reception desk and was greeted by a young woman with a frosty hello without taking her eyes off her screen. 

“Gallagher. Need to see him.” Mickey barked and the receptionist looked up, startled. He watched as she flicked her eyes up and down, taking him all in. His stocky build and his arched brows and his knuckle tattoos really built up a picture of just how much he was not to be fucked with. 

“Do you have an appointment?”

Mickey sneered. “He’ll see me.”

His mood was already fucked thanks to his wonky-nosed suspect answering every question with no comment and refusing to talk without his lawyer. He was not anticipating any improvement by talking to this jumped up asshole. 

“Can I take a name?”

“Milkovich.”

“Wait a moment, Mr Milkovich.”

“ _Detective_ Milkovich.” He replied. Usually he didn’t give a shit about pulling rank and would happily be called Mickey by anyone and everyone, but something about this snooty as fuck office and the snooty as fuck people in it had him feeling like he wanted to ram his title down their throats. 

Frosty Lady picked up a phone and hit a number, her face lighting up when she got an answer. Mickey chuckled hollowly when he realized she absolutely had the hots for her boss. Maybe they were banging. She was definitely interested in the idea if they weren’t already. 

“Oh hello Mr Gallagher. You have an unscheduled visitor. I told him you would likely be busy...it’s a Detective Milkovich. Mmhmm. Okay. I’ll send him in.”

Mickey didn’t wait for her to hang up. He wandered out into the corridor until he found the little brass sign with Philip Gallagher ADA in dark script. 

“Lip! Fuck, been trying to think of that all day.” Mickey muttered under his breath as he raised his fist to knock. The door opened and the blond from earlier was in front of him.

“I’m not coming off this case. No way. No how. Final.” Mickey snapped in greeting and the cool expression on Gallagher’s face got a lot colder. 

“Come in.”

Mickey stomped inside and snorted softly at the leather chairs and chunky oak desk situation in front of the huge window. As if these fuckers deserve this fucking opulence. Gallagher closed the door and pointed to the seat next to Mickey. He sat and Gallagher took his own seat. 

“I never said I wanted you off the case.”

Mickey scowled. “Really? That is not what I heard. I heard you found out you had Southside trash on the job and starting sweating bullets that I’m gonna fuck it up.”

Gallagher sat back and clasped his hands together, bringing them up to tap them on his lips. “You gonna fuck this up?”

Mickey narrowed his eyes. “Fuck no.”

Gallagher shrugged. “Then we won’t have a problem. But just to be clear. I am not losing this case. Not for all the tea in China.”

“More of a coffee guy myself.” Mickey shot back. “So you wanna tell me why my captain thinks you do want me gone?”

Gallagher splayed his hands. “I just mentioned that a suspect with a broken nose in this political climate will be eaten up by his lawyer.”

Mickey chuckled mirthlessly. “His lawyer being your brother.”

Again, Gallagher shrugged but this time didn’t speak. 

“So you give less of a fuck about political climates and more of a fuck about beating your brother in court. That’s fuckin rich.”

Gallagher gave him a crooked smile to go with his crooked nose. “It’s all politics at the end of the day.”

“Alright Gallagher. Let me do my job, I’ll let you do yours.”

“Alright.” Gallagher agreed and Mickey rose to his feet. “I want this son of a bitch to see a patch of daylight through a cell window for a lot of years.”

“You and me both. This personal to you?”

Gallagher shrugged in that maddening way that Mickey was growing to fucking despise. “Aren’t all pedophiles?”

Mickey reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a memory stick, tossing it to Gallagher. He caught it like he’d been fielding for the Yankees all his life. “You wanna see the nose job he gave himself?”

Gallagher grinned. “I think you and me are gonna get along just fine.”

What is it they say about famous last words? Mickey had until the end of the day to get the suspect to spill his guts and so far all he knew how to say was ‘no’ and ‘comment’ in that order. Three hours into the interrogation and Mickey was pulled out by another detective, who pointed him to the observation room next door. Inside was Gallagher, pacing and prowling like an animal. 

“You have got to be kidding me!” Mickey growled. 

Gallagher stopped pacing and narrowed his icy blue eyes at Mickey. “I could say the same! You’ve got six hours left before we have to turn him over to processing and I need more than what we found on his hard drive! I need more, Milkovich. Can you give me more or do I need to get someone else in there?”

“You want more? I will give you fucking plenty if you pull me out of there one more time. We agreed you’d let me do my job...this is not you letting me do my job!”

Gallagher’s face twisted into an angry sneer. “So go fucking do it! I need a full confession.”

Mickey squared up to the taller man and puffed out his chest. “Go fuck yourself.”

Mickey swept out of the room and back into the interrogation room, seething and fully aware his every move was on full view for that cranky asshole to see. 

“Alright Mr Lishman. We’re gonna run through this again and you’re gonna answer my questions. If you don’t, we’re gonna knock on every door in your neighborhood looking for witnesses. I’m guessing you want this kept between us hm?”

The man opposite Mickey stared vacantly at the plastic cup on the table between them. His lawyer was to his left and was scribbling on a legal pad, seemingly disinterested in whatever Mickey was throwing at his client. Ian Gallagher had a better than decent record as a public defender. Mickey had never had the pleasure of being on one of his cases but he knew from other cops in the department that he was good at his job. He kicked himself that he never clicked Gallagher the lawyer was one of the Canaryville Gallaghers. Not that it mattered. Mickey didn’t really know them so it wouldn’t have interfered with his work. But recalling the way people on the force would describe Ian Gallagher made Mickey nervous. Poor kid with IQ points to spare, he was given scholarships from the city to get through law school. He took every opportunity and made it work for him. Mickey would be impressed if it didn’t mean he got scumbags back on the same streets Mickey was working hard to clean up. 

“Do you have reason to believe any of Mr Lishman’s neighbors are involved in the charges you wish to bring against my client?”

Mickey rolled his eyes. Seriously, who is this guy kidding? Nobody from their neck of the woods talks like that. “Just doing our due diligence.”

“Hmm. Well perhaps it’s best we move on and cross that bridge when we come to it.” Gallagher smiled thinly. 

Something about this guy was getting to Mickey. He was smug and condescending but that was the case with most lawyers. Mickey looked back at the suspect and crossed his arms across his chest. “What I don’t understand is how you thought you’d get away with it? I mean, you’re not exactly worried about covering your tracks.”

Lishman lifted his head and just stared at Mickey. He looked old, even older than the 72 years his driver’s licence confirmed he was. His eyes were wrinkled and his cheeks gaunt. He was a mess and if Mickey didn’t know anything about him he would feel bad for the man. But he did know. He knew everything about this guy. From his acrimonious divorce from a woman who was 90% sleeping pills and 10% vitriol almost twenty years ago to his penchant for hanging around with underage boys. 

“Tell me about your wife.” Mickey smirked. 

“Candace?” Lishman chuckled, his voice dry. “I haven’t seen that psychopath in years.”

Mickey nodded. “I know. And yet, she’s still got a lot to say about you. Wanna hear some of it?”

“Not really.”

“Indulge me.” Mickey opened up his file and shot Gallagher a smirk. “I’m gonna read it out verbatim. You like that? I know big words too. Alright...he is a disgusting waste of skin. He is defective. I used to tell our son not to bring any of his friends over to the house. He’s a manipulative sexual deviant...want me to continue? That was her just getting warmed up.”

Lishman was licking his lips anxiously but Gallagher was calm. 

“Do you have a question for my client or are you content to waste the last few hours of interrogation giving us sound bites from a woman who is confirmed to be biased?”

Sometimes, Mickey struggled to understand why anyone could find it in their heart to defend people like Lishman. This was one of those times. This was also one of those times Mickey felt the interview getting away from him and it sucked balls that it was happening with an ADA on the other side of the observation glass. Mickey took a breath and closed the file, setting it aside.

“Okay, I’m gonna level with you. We’ve got enough in the bag to lock you away until you’re ready to start coffin shopping. But what can I tell ya, I’m an over-achiever. I want it all. I want you to cop to the porn on your hard drive, the hanging around outside of a junior high school and I especially want you to cop for why you’ve been messaging a fifteen year old kid from the Yards on Instagram.”

That made Gallagher snap his head up and stare at his client, blood draining from his face.

“Messages?”

Mickey gave a shark-like grin. “He didn’t tell you? He’s been chasing a minor like a dog in heat. Offering to book fancy hotel rooms, telling him he’ll buy him all the latest consoles, hook him up with the latest iPhone. We’ve got it all. So…anything you wanna add?”

Lishman looked like he was going to be sick. “It’s not what you think…”

“Shut the hell up.” Gallagher barked, loud in the quiet room.

Mickey laughed boldly. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it. I’m only here cuz it’s raining and I don’t wanna be out on the streets. I got enough evidence to put you away for a long ass time.”

Gallagher swallowed hard. “Is there a plea deal on the table?”

Mickey laughed again, longer and harder. “My job is to get scum like him off the streets. You think I’m gonna offer up a deal? Shame on you, Mr Gallagher.”

Gallagher narrowed his eyes. “I want transcripts of everything. Until then he’s back to no comment.”

Mickey chuckled and rose to his feet. “Interview suspended, 15:26.”

The elder Gallagher was prowling when Mickey got in the room, pale as a ghost.

“What the fuck?”

Mickey spread his arms in surprise. “You even bother to read the file? I got him nailed, and not in a good way.”

Gallagher resumed his pacing and kept stopping to stare through the glass at his brother and Lishman.

“You gonna tell me what the fuck is going on here?”

“It wasn’t in the file.” Gallagher snapped. “About the boy.”

Mickey shrugged. “So? I haven’t had time to keep up with my paperwork. Some hard ass ADA wanted to know if I was capable of doing my fucking job instead of letting me actually do my job.”

Gallagher was wide-eyed. “He asked for a deal. I need to see all the paperwork. I can’t table a deal until I know everything.”

“Gallagher. He is not getting a deal.”

“We have to consider it.”

Mickey threw his arms up in dismay. “You are a piece of shit.”

It was like Gallagher didn’t hear him. Mickey glared at the man and leaned down to get in his face.

“Whatever the fuck is going on, get your shit together. He can plead not guilty all he likes. We’ve got him. You wanted more, I gave you more. Now do your fucking job.”

Lishman had no more to say to any of Mickey’s questions so he was processed and sent to holding to await arraignment. When he was gone Mickey cleaned up the interrogation room and labelled up all of the tapes. He headed out to the main lobby in the hope of catching Gaspard before he finished for the day and convincing him to go for a drink. There was no sign of his partner anywhere but Mickey turned the corner and came face to face with Ian Gallagher gulping down a bottle of water in front of the vending machine. The movement of Mickey arriving in the corridor caught Gallagher’s eye and he turned, making eye contact as he drained the bottle. Mickey had to clamp his jaw closed to stop it from dropping open at the sight of the man. It was only really sinking in now why Gallagher was getting under his skin. Now that he wasn’t hyper focused on his job it was easy to see – Ian Gallagher was fucking gorgeous. Mickey didn’t really have a type. If pushed he would have to say most of his ex-partners (sexual, not that lovey-dovey shit) had been fair haired. Blonds mainly. But Mickey couldn’t be sure that was an active choice or just how the cards fell when he was out looking to get off. There was something about this shade of red, no, orange, or was it red? Whatever fucking color it was, it was doing things to Mickey. It was cut in a business-like short on the sides and longer on the top sort of thing that really worked for him. His jaw was sharp enough to give a paper cut. But it was the eyes. Mickey scoffed internally at his own lameness that he was suddenly finding a pair of eyes the most attractive part of this guy. What a pair of eyes though. Green with flecks of gold around the outside and just absolutely mesmerizing and holy fucking shit Mickey needed to stop this right fucking now. 

“Detective.” Gallagher smiled easily. “Good work in there.”

Mickey curled his lip into a scowl. “Oh yeah? So you agree your client is going down.”

Gallagher shrugged and Mickey had to restrain himself from choking him. He looked so much like his asshole brother when he did that. “I guess we’ll have to see.”

Mickey shook his head in disgust. “I don’t know how you can live with yourself. Defending the likes of him…”

Another shrug. “I got bills to pay just like you, Detective.”

“Well I’d rather starve and freeze to death than play a part in letting those people walk around in civilized society again.” Mickey retorted. “I’ll see you in court.”

Gallagher chuckled and waved as Mickey turned to storm away. “Looking forward to it already.”

“Fucking Gallaghers.” Mickey huffed under his breath.

Princess Maddie, as she insisted everyone call her, was sitting in Mickey’s chair when he got home from work. She was watching some cartoon and twirling her hair as she concentrated.

“Hey Mads.” He greeted and stroked a hand through her hair. “Where’s your mom?”

Maddie pointed to the kitchen. “Making dinner.”

“You know how to call the fire department yet? Now might be the time to learn.”

Mickey scooped up the tiny child and tickled her until she squealed, carrying her through to the kitchen. Mandy was glaring angrily at the oven while a pan of something brown bubbled up on the stove.

“You know, if you burn this place down too none of us will have anywhere to live.”

Mandy flipped him off and stirred the sauce. “I didn’t burn my place down. It was an electrical fault.”

Mickey already knew all this but it was his sister and it would be remiss of him to stop winding her up just because her cheap-ass landlord skipping service checks had made her homeless. He set Maddie down at the little table and moved to the stove, wrinkling his nose when he saw the sludge Mandy was whipping into a frenzy.

“What’s it meant to be?”

She sighed heavily. “Some kind of casserole.”

Mickey hummed to himself. “I’m gonna order a pizza.”

“Mickey!” His sister shrieked indignantly. “I spent ages on this!”

“It shows. Mads, you want pineapple on yours?”

Maddie giggled when Mickey backed away from the stove and reached for his phone. “And marshmallows!”

Mickey tilted his head and considered her request, shrugging in acceptance. “We might have to put them on ourselves but sure.”

Mandy slammed the pan in the sink and screamed at the top of her lungs. “I don’t believe this!”

Mandy ate her share of the pizza begrudgingly while Mickey and Maddie tucked in like it was their first meal of the day. Even when Mickey added a handful of pink marshmallows to the pie it still tasted delicious.

“Excellent idea, Mads.” Mickey winked at his niece.

“You’re disgusting. Both of you.” Mandy shook her head, but Mickey saw the flash of happiness in her eyes. Having a kid on your own was never easy, even though Mandy and Maddie were far better off without the child’s deadbeat dad on the scene. He had never met his daughter and Mickey remained the most constant adult male in her life. It suited Mickey fine. Nobody could hurt his family with him keeping watch. He knew it meant a lot to his sister that he was ready and willing to play an active role in her daughter’s life.

When dinner was over and Mandy was taking care of the bedtime routine, Mickey headed out to the back porch of his small house and lit up a cigarette. His intake had dramatically reduced having Maddie around the house. He was pretty set on her never seeing him smoke ever. He inhaled deeply and held the smoke in his lungs as he thought about his day. Getting his suspect remanded upstate until his trial was Mickey’s priority now but it was unlikely given that the suspect in question was in his seventies. No judge Mickey’d ever met would be interested in locking up a geriatric even if he was a pervert. His mind went to the guy’s lawyer and his dick twitched in his pants when his brain conjured up an image of Ian Gallagher. Mickey wasn’t blind. Gallagher was the hottest guy he’d seen in probably a lifetime. He wanted to climb him like a tree. Not that it was ever going to happen. Firstly, chances are Gallagher was straight as an arrow and banging chicks morning, noon and night. Secondly, Mickey didn’t shit in his own nest and work was more of a nest than anywhere else to him. He kept his work life and his private life so far apart they would never meet. He’d learned that the hard way when he got carried away with a fellow rookie straight out of the academy back in the day and the guy would not leave him alone. It ended with Mickey being outed to the whole force and the guy being transferred to some rural department where he spent most of his days tracking down sheep rustlers. After that steaming pile of shit, Mickey stayed away from getting his dick wet with anyone even remotely related to his job. Cops, robbers and attorneys were all off the menu. But that didn’t mean he was a robot. Over the years a few guys had caught his eye and it was only the memories of the fresh hell he went through with the rookie that stopped him from breaking his self-imposed rule in his quest to get laid. Now though…now…ugh. Gallagher had flicked a switch in his brain that made him want to forget everything and jump his bones. It was fucking disgusting how much Mickey wanted him. Like an itch that was buzzing under the surface of his skin.

“You’ll get wrinkles if you keep frowning like that.”

Mandy reached out and took the half-smoked cigarette from his hand and took a drag.

Mickey snatched it back and scowled at her. “This is my quiet time. Fuck off.”

“You must know by now that being a mean asshole gets you nowhere. What’s up? Tough day?”

Mickey shrugged. “Charged that pedo guy I was telling you about. He’s got my head messed up.”

Mandy shuddered beside him and held out her hand. Mickey glared but handed over the cigarette.

“Should chop his balls off. No prison time needed. Just…snip…gone.”

“He needs to die in prison.” Mickey argued. “After spending his last days on earth watching over his shoulder the whole time, waiting to be shanked.”

Mandy chuckled hollowly. “You’re so professional.”

Mickey sighed and rubbed his eyes. “I just don’t get it, Mands. How anyone can hurt kids. I dunno if having Maddie around has turned me into a fucking ball of sap but I can’t stop thinking about the kinds of monsters roam this earth. It makes me sick.”

“Then you’re in the right job. You catch them and put them away. You clean up the streets so Maddie doesn’t grow up afraid and in danger.”

Mickey glanced sideways at his sister. She mocked his career choice at every opportunity but he knew she was actually proud of him. The first Milkovich to graduate. The first Milkovich to get a real job. He was a trailblazer in the family. “I’d kill for her.” He said with dark certainty.

Mandy smiled and leaned her head on his shoulder. “I know. I just hope you never have to.”


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Gallagher brothers continue to make life difficult for Mickey when they get in the way of him doing his job.

Mickey didn’t get a chance to attend Lishman’s arraignment. He was stowed off with cases sitting on his desk waiting for attention. Some days it made him smugly proud that he was the best on the job so he picked up a lot of the complex cases. Other days it made him bitter and frustrated. News came through at around noon that Lishman had been granted bail – shocker – which included a restraining order against anyone under the age of 18. Ridiculous, but better than nothing. A quick phone call to a cop that owed him a favor had uniforms following Lishman if he was spotted out and about. It wasn’t exactly fool proof but it was more than the courts were willing to do. Gaspard was talking about taking a trip out to the pier to see if anyone had info on a professional pickpocket gang when a message came through on Mickey’s phone from a number he didn’t have saved.

_“Got those transcripts for me yet?”_

Now Mickey prided himself on being an intelligent man and a damn good detective but irritatingly this had him stumped. His brain had already clicked into gear to start planning an elaborate sting operation that would ensnare a group of thieves who were systematically driving down tourism at the pier and affecting the livelihoods of many local businesses. 

“ _The fuck is this?”_ Mickey replied bluntly and a second later a reply came back.

“ _Ian Gallagher. So_?”

Mickey felt a swoop in his stomach that felt unfamiliar and unwelcome. His mind wasn’t on Lishman anymore. His mind wasn’t on Ian Gallagher. Not now at least. He certainly thought about him plenty when he was alone in bed with his hand wrapped around his dick. So the fact that it didn’t immediately come to him that it was Gallagher texting him made him angry at himself, and that meant taking it out on the man who caused it.

“ _Fuck off. He ain’t even out of the cab home yet. You’ll get it when you get it_.”

He tossed his phone onto his desk so hard it made Gaspard jump.

“Jesus, Mick.”

“Sorry. That fuckhead Gallagher got my number and is chasing me for evidence already.” Mickey growled, more than a little pissed that his pulse had quickened as soon as he saw the name Ian Gallagher on his screen.

“The ADA?” Gaspard frowned. “He’s keen.”

“Nah. His shithead brother. Lishman’s attorney.”

That only made Gaspard more confused. “Oh. How the fuck did he get your number?”

“Good fucking question. Come on. Let’s check out the pier.”

Mickey’s phone buzzed for the fifth time while he was wandering around the pier with a hotdog. He was pointedly ignoring it since he knew it was Gallagher, the first couple clearly an indication that the redhead had zero patience. He was about to throw his phone into the water when Gaspard caught his eye from the opposite side of the promenade. He was tilting his head toward a couple beside the arcades and pretending to look at a map at the same time. Mickey smirked and took an ambling arc around the crowds to get nearer his partner. The couple were pacing back and forth, eyes roaming around while they feigned conversation with each other. Gaspard adopted a faraway look and turned his back on them while Mickey got closer, almost shark-like in his approach. He’d always been good at stakeouts and surveillance. His unassuming appearance and his ability to blend made him the best at the job. Just as they expected, Gaspard’s apparent disregard for his wallet’s safety was too much of a draw for the couple of pickpockets and they split up, the man looking in the window of a shop selling tacky souvenirs while his female companion sidled up to Gaspard.

“Excuse me?” Her face was a picture of innocence. “Could you point me in the direction of the aquarium please?”

Gaspard, to his credit, could have been an actor in a previous life and Mickey watched in amazement as his partner did what he did best. He played dumb and made out like he was the most helpful sucker on the planet. While he started reeling off street names and landmarks Mickey moved closer, just in time to see the male companion slip his hand into Gaspard’s jacket pocket. The veteran cop knew when to keep going and carried on directing the lady to where she wanted to go as Mickey stopped in front of the guy. His phone buzzed in his pocket again, momentarily distracting him and giving the thief a head start as he took off running. Gaspard turned suddenly and grabbed the wrists of the female suspect while Mickey growled loudly in despair. He ran after the perp at a speed he’d rarely managed since the academy.

“Police! Hold the fuck up!”

Unsurprisingly to all concerned, the guy kept running. Mickey had to dig deep to keep up with him and when he finally caught up and tackled the guy he was panting for breath.

“Keep fucking still.” Mickey snarled while his collar rolled and writhed on the floor. To his utter fury and disbelief, his phone buzzed in his pocket again. He pulled it out and found it wasn’t a message this time. It was a call. Ian fucking Gallagher was calling him.

“You better be dying, you miserable fucking asshole.” Mickey gasped sharply.

Ian chuckled down the line. “Alive and kicking.”

“More’s the fucking pity.” Mickey snapped. “I’m at work. I’m literally in the middle of a collar. So I’m gonna hang up the damn phone and get on with my day. Okay, Atticus?”

Ian howled with laughter. “Atticus. I like that. You ever heard of discovery, Detective?”

“You’re gonna discover exactly how you die if you keep talking. You’ll get your evidence when I’m ready to hand it over. Now leave me the fuck alone and make sure your guy doesn’t end up prowling outside of schools. Okay? Good. Bye bye.”

Mickey shoved the phone back in his pocket and yanked on the handcuffs to pull his thief to his feet.

“Oww!”

“Oh sorry. Too tight? My bad. Let’s go, numb nuts.”

With the thieves in custody and Mickey’s adrenaline back to normal levels he found himself absolutely pissed. Gaspard gave him a wide berth, knowing he would be unbearable. Baker even closed his office door. Mickey grabbed his phone and keys and took to the streets in the hope fresh air and greasy street vendor food would fix his mood. 

“Stupid fucking ginger asshole fucking up my head.” He snarled to himself while he walked. When his phone buzzed again and it was Philip Gallagher calling him, well he nearly lost his shit again. 

“What the fuck do you want?” 

“Nice to talk to you too, Mickey. Having a good day?”

“Fuck you. And your brother. And the horse you both rode in on.”

Lip chuckled harshly down the phone. “You’re in a good mood. It’s gonna get even better in a moment...”

“I can hardly wait.”

“The kid in the Lishman case is pulling out of testifying. Doesn’t wanna go to court.”

“The fuck?” Mickey snapped. “That’s the backbone of the fucking case!”

“Yep. We have to go another way.”

“What other way? The creepy fuck had us tied in knots thanks to your asshole brother. He’s got to testify!”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something, Mr Star Detective.”

The line disconnected and Mickey glared at his phone in livid dismay. 

“Everything okay?” Gaspard asked gently. 

“Beer. Now.” Mickey retorted. 

The cop bar across the street from the precinct was as much of a dive bar as any in Mickey’s neighborhood. The owner, Derek Pickler, was a retired beat cop who took over the place a few years back from his uncle when he got too old to run the place. Uncle Pickles, as he was known to every cop on the force, had been a mean-ass detective who made a name for himself back in the 70s when he disarmed a protester with a bomb vest in the lobby of City Hall. 

“Mickey! Long time no see. You been away?” Derek waved him into a seat at the bar. 

“I fuckin wish. Got my sister and niece staying with me. Need to make sure she doesn’t burn the place down.”

“Your niece?” Derek tilted his head. 

“My sister.” Mickey rolled his eyes. “Two beers please.”

Gaspard dropped onto the stool beside Mickey and shrugged out of his jacket. “So what is it? Gallagher still blowing up your phone?”

“Other Gallagher this time. I swear, I don’t know which one is worse. Actually I do. It’s the ginger. If he shrugs at me one more time I’m gonna dislocate his shoulder.” 

Gaspard chuckled. “Not nice is it?”

“What?”

“Coming up against someone who can keep up with you. Banter for banter. Insult for insult.”

Mickey raised his brows. “What do you mean?”

“It’s how I felt when you turned up six years ago. I was the hot shot detective with twice the case load of anyone else. I could get a conviction in a case with no suspect. Then you show up and wipe the floor with me. Funny, ain’t it?” Gaspard explained with an amused grin. 

Mickey was speechless. He’d never really given much thought to how Gaspard felt about him. Sure, he knew the guy liked him. They were tight. But it hadn’t ever occurred to Mickey that his arrival on the scene all those years ago had been anything but a goddamn treat for Gaspard to enjoy. 

“Relax, tough guy. You’re still my favorite asshole with a badge.” Gaspard winked. “So tell me about the case. What’s our friendly neighborhood ADA want now? Blood? Unicorn tears?”

“The case is going to shit. Kid is pulling his testimony so we’ve got Lishman lurking outside of a school and pedo porn on a computer that we can’t prove other people wouldn’t be able to access.” Mickey sighed heavily. “He’s gonna walk. If it even gets to court.”

Gaspard absorbed Mickey’s words and sighed loudly. “Fuck.”

Mickey sank more of his beer and burped. “Yup. First Gallagher wants my blood for a conviction and now we lose our witness he’s just hey whatever we’ll figure it out. He gives me fuckin whiplash.”

“So what’s the plan?” 

Mickey shot Gaspard a sidelong glare. “I’m gonna finish my beer and think of all the other jobs I coulda chosen that wouldn’t give me blood pressure problems.”

Gaspard rolled his eyes. “Jesus you’re a dramatic fucker. Dunno how you didn’t set my gaydar off sooner.”

“You don’t have a gaydar. You constantly use mine.” Mickey shot back and waved his almost empty glass at Derek, who was leaning against the bar and watching a Mexican soap on a tiny, grainy TV set. 

“Another beer, Mick?” Derek drawled sarcastically. 

“Oh! If you wouldn’t mind. Don’t let me get in the way of your stories.”

The beer appeared a moment later and Mickey started in on it immediately. Gaspard was taking his time with his first and eyed Mickey carefully. 

“Something’s gotta be better than nothing, right?”

Mickey scowled and shook his head. “Not with pedophiles.”

Princess Maddie was waiting for Mickey when he got home from the bar. He’d promised her a bedtime story and she was not about to let his bad day get him off the hook. 

“You smell like beer.”

Mickey couldn’t tell if it was a statement of fact or admonishment. “One day, when you’re older and you have to deal with the general public, you’ll understand why Uncle Mickey sometimes smells like beer.”

Maddie made herself comfortable in the small bed Mickey had shelled out for when the youngster and her mother had shown up to stay with him. Mandy had tried to tell him not to bother and that they could use the camping mattresses she’d managed to borrow but Mickey was adamant. The kid should have a proper bed. And if it meant she had somewhere to sleep over when they eventually moved out, well that was just convenient wasn’t it?

“You can start.” Maddie announced. 

“Oh thank you.” Mickey chuckled and opened the dog-earred copy of Madeline to the first page. “ _In an old house in Paris that was covered with vines lived twelve little girls in two straight lines._ ”

Maddie loved this book. It was the only thing she cared about saving when her home burned down. It had been gifted to her by Mrs Blaine, Mandy’s octogenarian neighbor, when she discovered that Maddie was short for Madeline. It was the little girl’s prized possession, along with Teddy the brown stuffed bear Mickey had brought to the hospital on the day the child was born. Mickey didn’t even make it halfway through when the little girl’s mouth fell open as she slept. He carefully tucked her in and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. Having her around the house was a blessing, but it made Mickey think more about the fact that he probably wouldn’t ever get to have his own kids. Being gay and decidedly single were the main factors in that and Mickey was at peace with it. Maddie just brought it home with more of a punch than he was comfortable with. 

“Careful, the bad guys of Chicago will have nothing to fear if word gets out that you’re a soft touch.” Mandy soft voice floated in from the doorway. 

Mickey followed her out to the hallway and closed the door to his spare bedroom. “Trust me, she’s the only person in the world I’m soft about.”

“Dinner’s keeping warm on the stove.”

Mickey raised an eyebrow but didn’t mention her lack of cooking skills. “Thanks. Just gonna grab a shower. I can watch Mads if you wanna go see some friends...”

Mandy’s eyes lit up. She never complained but Mickey knew being a single parent wasn’t the path she planned to take. She rarely hung out with her friends anymore. 

“You sure?”

Mickey nodded. “Let me wash the day off and then you can head out.”

He was suddenly wrapped up in an unexpected hug and he gingerly patted his sister’s back. 

“Thanks Mick.”

An hour later, with (sorry, Mandy) Chinese food on the way, Mickey settled back with another beer to watch some television show that didn’t require any brain function to enjoy. Maddie was a deep sleeper and rarely woke up during the night but he kept the volume low just in case. His cell phone was on the table and buzzed once. Mickey grabbed for it, expecting it to be the delivery guy with his food, and instead felt his heartbeat quicken when he saw it was Gallagher. Ian. Ian Gallagher. 

“ _You gonna give me what I want, Detective?_ ”

Mickey knew what he wanted. Information on their evidence against Lishman. But, fuck, did it sound like a come on. 

He sat back for a moment and looked at the words on the screen. Simple. To the point. And fucking enticing. A stirring in his pants jolted him back to the present and he was instantly annoyed at his body’s reaction to one solitary sentence. His food arrived before he could formulate a response but that didn’t stop his brain from thinking of all the options. He could shut him down with his standard two word catchphrase. He could flirt back a little. Or he could ignore him entirely. After he ate his dinner and boxed up his leftovers for tomorrow’s lunch, he picked up his phone again. 

“ _All in good time, Gallagher_.”

Mandy arrived back a short while later and, after berating Mickey for avoiding her cooking once again, headed to bed. It left Mickey alone with his thoughts and they were all about Ian fucking Gallagher. He was gorgeous, tenacious and probably the hottest new talent on the block. It made Mickey’s dick hard to think of the quiet yet commanding attorney in a sexual situation. Just as he was about to slink off to his room and pull up some old favorites in his porn collection, his phone buzzed again on the table. 

“ _Now feels like a good time to me._ ”

Mickey groaned. A deep, rumble in the chest kind of groan. His fingers flew over the letters on his touchscreen. 

“ _You think I give a fuck how you feel?_ ”

It was harsh. It sounded much more aggressive than Mickey was actually feeling. It seemed to do the trick though because Gallagher left him on read. Great. How he was sexually frustrated and too annoyed to jerk off. 

Gaspard was reassigned to a low level burglary task force for the next two weeks so that left Mickey to stew to himself over his own open case load. His filing system was more of a pile it up and deal with it later system but he wasn’t concerned. His conviction rate spoke volumes and nobody cared about how he handled his paperwork. Days like this, however, had Mickey wishing there was a little more order in his law and order. He worked for hours before his stomach reminded him it was time to eat. Mickey headed out to the vending machines to grab some Doritos and a Snickers bar and came face to face with one Ian fucking Gallagher. It had been over a week since their text message exchange but if Mickey thought the attorney was pissed at him, well, Gallagher’s expression told him he was wrong. 

“Hello Detective.” 

Mickey wanted to simultaneously kiss and punch the smirking grin off his beautiful fucking face. 

“Gallagher.” Mickey sighed. “I’m busy, so if you’re here to chase me for Grandpa’s evidence you’ve had a wasted journey.”

Gallagher chuckled softly. “As much fun as I would have coming to visit you, I’m actually here for another client. The people of Chicago can’t seem to stop needing my services.”

Mickey turned his back to the other man and pressed the combination of buttons on the vending machine that made it spit out his snacks at record speed. When he turned back Gallagher was looking slightly impressed. 

“Show me how to get a coffee? I can’t get the machine to work.”

Mickey felt a flicker of something inside him that he didn’t recognize. Gallagher looked almost hopeful and Mickey didn’t know why. 

“Can’t, man.” Mickey shook his head regretfully and the half-smile froze on Gallagher’s face. 

“What?”

“I can’t let you drink that shit. It might actually kill you. Or turn you into some kinda knock off Marvel supervillain. Nope. Can’t do it.”

When Mickey ended with a smile Gallagher knew it was okay to laugh. A minute later they were both pretending they weren’t chuckling away with each other. 

“Come with me. I’ll get you a coffee that won’t mess with the structure of your DNA.” Mickey turned abruptly and walked away without waiting to see if Gallagher followed. He did. 

Mickey pointed to the seat at his desk and Gallagher sat down, watching silently as Mickey crossed the open plan room to a coffee pot at the far side under the window. He poured two drinks and set them down on the desk, taking a seat at Gaspard’s desk opposite his own. 

“Thanks.”

It was in a take out cup. Gallagher could leave any time. But he sat and looked around like he had all day and Mickey found he had no inclination to make him leave. 

“Your daughter?” Gallagher pointed to a framed photo on the desk. It was a birthday gift from Mandy last year and showed a beautiful candid shot of Mickey and Maddie giggling together. They were both showing a lot of teeth and had the same shiny blue eyes. 

“Nope.” Mickey replied. 

“Oh. She looks a lot like you.”

“Niece. My sister’s kid.”

Gallagher grinned and grabbed his phone out of his pocket, holding it up so Mickey could see the screensaver picture of him and a small ginger girl smiling brightly for the camera. 

“My sister’s kid.” Gallagher said proudly. “She’s great.”

Mickey smiled tightly. He didn’t know how to act in these circumstances. Guys didn’t talk about their families with him. It took a second but he jolted when he realized he was thinking of Gallagher as a _guy_ guy and not in a professional capacity. Holy shit. 

“Very cute.” He said simply. 

Gallagher set his phone on the desk and sipped the coffee, closing his eyes as the caffeine hit. 

“I know you don’t respect what I do. Representing people that you think should be snuffed out. But it’s my job. It’s literally how I pay my bills. Without it I’d still be living with my family and listening to my niece warble the theme tune to Peppa Pig at six every morning. I have to do my job.” Gallagher spoke carefully. Almost nervously. 

Mickey took a breath in. “I know. It just...I don’t get how people like him can live with themselves. It’s fucked up. What if it was your niece?”

Gallagher visibly flinched and looked away. Mickey felt bad for the guy. He wasn’t jaded by thirty years on the job yet. He didn’t need to start thinking like that just yet. 

“I’m sorry...”

Gallagher cut off Mickey’s apology with the wave of his hand. “I get it. I do. But everyone deserves a fair trial. That’s what I gotta do. If he’s guilty then the jury will call it.”

Mickey snorted in disbelief. “You believe that’s how it works?”

“I have to believe that. Otherwise...what am I here for?”

Mickey huffed and gulped down his coffee. “I’m gonna nail his balls to the wall, Gallagher. You are not going to win this case.”

Gallagher shrugged and smiled. “We’ll see.”

“Yeah. That’s what we’ll see.” Mickey retorted. 

The smile on Gallagher’s face as he gazed at Mickey could only be described as fond. Seconds before it was about to unnerve Mickey, Gallagher’s cell rang loudly and drew away his attention. The name Fiona with an emoji heart flashed on the screen. Gallagher casually hit the reject option. 

“You’re gonna piss your lady off if you cut her calls like that, man.” Mickey teased. 

“She’s my sister, not my lady. I don’t have a lady.”

“Sucks to be you.” Mickey grinned. 

Gallagher’s red brows danced in amusement. “Yeah. I do suck. That’s why I don’t have a lady.”

The words hung in the air. Silence filled the space. Mickey gazed at Ian steadily as the redhead’s face started to flame up. There was no definite confirmation that Ian was gay but there was certainly none that he just meant he was bad hetero boyfriend material. 

“Fuck.” Ian exhaled slowly. “Didn’t mean to say...”

Mickey held up his hand to halt Ian’s stuttered words. Ian fell silent and waited. 

“None of my business. Don’t worry about it.” Mickey brushed it off with a blank expression. 

“But...”

“Gallagher. I don’t care. You could fuck unicorns in your spare time and I wouldn’t think twice. Forget it.”

Ian smiled shyly and nodded. “Spare time? What’s that?”

And just like that their sinking ship of a conversation was rescued and Mickey let out a short laugh. “Exactly. I got case notes to write up.”

Ian almost leapt to his feet. “Of course. Thanks for the coffee.”

He was gone before Mickey could utter a goodbye. 

Philip Gallagher, Mickey had decided, was a million times more annoying that his hot idiot brother. He blew hot and cold in a way that Mickey just couldn’t work with. The intensity of his demanding behavior when Lishman was being interviewed seemed to have passed and news of the witness dropping out didn’t appear to bother the ADA. But his attitude seemed to change with the weather and now, a couple of weeks later, he was breathing down Mickey’s neck again. 

“You must have something!”

Mickey growled down the phone. “What? What must I have? You want me to trawl the local junior highs with his photo and ask if he’s offered anyone candy? Jesus fucking Christ!”

“I WANT YOU TO DO YOUR MOTHERFUCKING JOB!”

Mickey’s brows shot up to his hairline and he choked on a cough. “Say that to me again and I’ll rip your head off. You don’t scare me.”

“Well I should. I could have your badge.”

“You give that a try and let me know how it works out for you.” Mickey laughed. 

Gallagher huffed loudly. “Find something. Okay? That’s all I need. My brother is convinced he’s got this won. I’m not letting that happen.”

“I’m not here to play mediator in your sibling rivalry. I’m working on an active investigation. You and your brother need to take your mind games out of my precinct and back to the schoolyard.”

Mickey disconnected the call before he said something his captain would hear about and seethed silently for a few minutes. Gaspard was at his desk chewing sullenly on his quinoa salad and preparing for the venting that was about to come. When it didn’t, he tilted his head curiously. 

“Was that our friendly neighborhood ADA?”

Mickey nodded. “Asshole.”

“Hmm.”

“He’s given me an idea though...”

So that’s how Mickey found himself in the Cyber Crime lab for the rest of the afternoon. It was a flashy addition to the crime fighting force of Chicago and was filled to the brim with nerds. Varying degrees of geekiness were on show. You had Star Trek shirts and posters on the wall with what Mickey could only assume were jokes since they made reference to the moral integrity of someone’s motherboard. A lot of the occupants struggled to make eye contact when Mickey entered their space and he wondered how much human interaction these people actually had. He stopped at the desk of the first guy and gave his best version of a disarming smile as he flashed his badge. 

“Hey. Can you point me in the direction of the person who dealt with the Lishman evidence?”

The guy looked terrified. His ears went red and he wheeled his chair back to put some distance between them. 

“Uh...Lyle?” He called over his shoulder. 

“Yo.” A beanie wearing kid looked up, blond hair sticking out under his hat. 

“This man wants to speak to you.”

With that, he scurried away to the water machine and left Mickey in a cloud of dust. 

Lyle snickered. “Ignore him. When they were giving out social skills he was in the queue for a second helping of shyness.”

Mickey swiped his nose with his thumb and perched on the desk next to Lyle. The kid was confident to point of being cocky and it resonated somewhat with Mickey. He’d had to act more confident than he actually was at some points in his past and he knew when to recognize the hustle. Lyle wasn’t confident. He wasn’t cocky. He was faking it to make it and it kinda looked good on him. 

Mickey flashed his badge again. “Milkovich.”

He received a nod to carry on. 

“The Lishman evidence. You remember it?”

Lyle nodded again. “Sure. Basic perusal of the hard drive. Some dodgy shit in some encrypted files. Your usual old creep with a young kink outfit.”

Mickey tried not to visibly shudder at the nonchalance. Who knows what this kid had seen on a normal day at work. 

“Right,” Mickey nodded. “Well I just lost my only witness so I need his computer to do a lot more talking. How deep did you go?”

Lyle tapped his fingers against his chin. “Standard protocol. I stripped the hard drive, got past the encryptions and recovered deleted items. That’s all we really do. First off, at least.”

“First off? What do you mean?”

Lyle shrugged. “Sometimes we get asked to delve into logs, that sort of thing.”

Mickey closed his eyes and took a calming breath. He was not technical by any means and he got stressed when he didn’t understand something. 

“Look, I’m not a teenager like you are kid. I don’t know what any of that crap means. Break it down for me so I can lock this creep up.” 

Lyle grinned. “I’m 27.”

“You are?” Mickey was stunned. 

“Yup. But you’re right, I get asked for ID every time I buy beer.”

Mickey folded his arms across his chest. “What else can you do? He’s saying other people had access to his computer so we can’t pin it on him.”

Lyle turned and clicked some keys at his computer. He chewed his lip in concentration and then smiled broadly. He reeled back to face Mickey. 

“Event logs. We can track back to see when his computer was accessed and you can match it with his movements. Not a guarantee but it’s a start...”

Mickey sat upright and beamed. “Lyle, I could kiss you!”

“At least buy me a drink first.” The younger man shot back with a teasing grin. 

Mickey laughed cheerfully. He felt like he had a good read on the kid and it wasn’t flirting. He was just easy enough to make jokes. 

“How long to get that data?”

“Not long, I guess.”

Mickey held out his card and Lyle took it. “Give me a call when you got something for me. Thanks Lyle.”

Gaspard handed Mickey a beer and they sat down at a table near the tv where the Sox were warming up. 

“So you think we’re onto something?”

Mickey shrugged at the question. “The kid I spoke to seemed pretty switched on. Knows his shit. He’s gonna call when he’s got something. Just gotta see what comes back.”

Gaspard nodded along. “Sure. That why you keep looking at your phone?”

Mickey felt a prickle down his spine. Gaspard was trying to keep a straight face but the corners of his mouth couldn’t stop twitching. He’d assumed Mickey wanted to hear from Lyle. He did, sure, but only professionally. In reality, he hadn’t heard from Ian since he ran out of the precinct and it was playing on his mind. 

“Not like that, Ben.”

Gaspard held up his hands. “Of course. Strictly professional. I know.”

Mickey felt his face warm up. In a break from tradition he decided to open up to his friend. Probably his best friend. Gaspard certainly knew him best of anyone in his life other than Mandy. He’d even been known to give good advice before. 

“I had another run in with Gallagher.”

Gaspard frowned. “I know. I heard him yelling down the phone like a fuckin banshee.”

“Not him. Ian.” Mickey bit out. 

“Ian?” Gaspard repeated and Mickey squinted to himself as he tried to work out when he stopped thinking of the redhead as Gallagher and started thinking of him as Ian. 

“Yeah. Bumped into him at the precinct.”

Gaspard sipped some beer and waited. And waited. Mickey finally opened his mouth and blurted it out. 

“He’s gay.”

“Oh. Ohhhh.”

“He didn’t mean to tell me, I don’t think. It slipped out and he got crazy defensive...”

Gaspard nodded. “And then what?”

“He took off. Like the ginger Flash. Whoosh. Gone.” Mickey waved his hand in the air. 

“Does he know about you?”

Mickey shook his head. “Nope.”

“When was this?”

“Few weeks ago. He hadn’t even chased me for the evidence since then.”

Gaspard snorted indelicately. “Probably heard we ain’t got any now.”

Mickey let out a huff of a laugh. “True.”

“Something you wanna tell me, Mick?”

Gaspard was an intuitive fucker and he sensed changes in Mickey that only family usually could. 

“Nah. Not really. Nothing to say. Nothing happened.”

“You like him?”

Mickey laughed again. “Fuck no. He’s annoying as fuck.”

“You fancy him?”

“What the fuck is this? High school?”

Gaspard chuckled, unperturbed by Mickey’s hackles going up. “Relax. I’m fine talking about this stuff. God knows you’ve heard me talk about my sex life over the years.”

“And I still don’t know why my complaints to HR were overturned.” Mickey shot back. 

Gaspard ruffled Mickey’s hair. “I know you. He’s caught your eye. And not just for his looks. He fascinates you. I get that. He’s a charismatic fucker. Good at his job. But you won’t risk this case by fooling around with the bad guy’s lawyer. So get your head outta your ass and answer your phone. It’s been buzzing for a full minute.”

Mickey snatched up his phone and growled a hello. 

“Uncle Mickey, where are you?”

His entire body relaxed at Maddie’s greeting. A smile lit up his face. 

“Hey Mads. I’m with my friend.”

“You have a friend?”

Wow. Kids are cruel. Mickey glanced at Gaspard and smiled gently. 

“Yeah. I got a really good friend. His name is Ben.”

Gaspard grinned and mimed throwing up. 

“I’m going to bed now. Night night.” Maddie yawned down the phone. 

“Goodnight Princess. I’ll check on you when I get home.”

“Okay. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

“Lots and lots?”

“Like jelly tots.”

When Mickey hung up he caught Gaspard gazing with starry eyes. 

“You’d be a great dad, you know that Mick?”

Mickey blushed and snorted. “Not likely.”

Gaspard rose to his feet and headed to the bar, leaving Mickey alone with that thought. He didn’t know how to feel about it. All he knew was that when Maddie left his home in a few weeks it would leave a hole Mickey wouldn’t know how to fill. 


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey’s relationship with the Gallagher brothers takes a turn and he lets Ian get inside his head.

Mickey handed over cash to the vendor and took the stick of bright pink cotton candy. 

“Don’t come crying to me when you lose all your teeth.”

Maddie took the stick with a look of joy on her face. “They’re going to fall out soon anyway.”

Mickey rolled his eyes and held out his hand, which Maddie grasped with her spare one. “You know, nobody likes a smart ass.”

Maddie’s undoubtedly sarcastic response was muffled by her sticking the cotton candy in her mouth. They were spending the day together so Mandy could go view some apartments near to Mickey’s place. It was a pretty decent area so the rent was a little higher than she was used to paying but the perks of being near a free babysitter seemed to outweigh the negatives. They strolled hand in hand around the park watching the world go by for a while, chatting about Maddie’s upcoming sixth birthday party. She wanted a clown. Mickey wanted to not end the day with a headache. It was likely they’d both be disappointed. 

“Detective. Fancy bumping into you.”

Mickey’s head jerked and he found Philip Gallagher standing to his right with a small boy in his arms. 

“Philip.” Mickey nodded. 

“Call me Lip.”

“Do I have to?” 

Gallagher chuckled and glanced down at Maddie. “I didn’t know you had a kid.”

“Why would you know anything about me?”

“He’s my uncle.” Maddie piped up. 

“Oh really? What’s your name?”

“Princess Madeline.” She announced proudly. “But you can call me Maddie.”

Gallagher set the boy down and crouched beside them. “It’s lovely to meet you, Maddie. This is my boy Freddie. He’s a little shy.”

“Hello Freddie. How old are you?” Maddie addressed the boy, who looked back with wide eyes. 

“Five.”

“Me too!” Maddie beamed. “But I’m six soon. Would you like to come to my party?”

Freddie looked up at his father in surprise. Gallagher laughed softly. “We’ll see.”

“Uncle Mickey, can I take Freddie to play in the park?”

Mickey glanced at Gallagher, who nodded. 

“Sure. Be careful. No running off.”

Maddie thrust the sticky mess of cotton candy at him and grabbed Freddie’s hand, dragging him to the park as the two men followed behind. 

Mickey and Lip sat on a bench and watched as the kids ran amok in the enclosed playground. 

“You heard from Ian lately?”

Mickey’s head snapped up. “No. Why?”

“Relax. Just asking.” Lip smirked. “He told me he pissed you off.”

“Which time?” Mickey snarked. 

Lip settled back in his seat. “He’s not a bad guy, you know. He works hard. Wants to help people.”

“Good for him.” Mickey shrugged. “Still don’t know why he’d wanna defend scum like Lishman but whatever.”

“Well he didn’t have much of a choice. Lishman is our ex-sort of brother in law’s father. He bailed us outta jail once when we were young and stupid. I guess Ian feels like he owes him a favor.”

Mickey felt his eyebrows dance. “Bailed you out?”

Lip chuckled softly. “Our sister was dating this guy. Jimmy. Steve. Who the fuck knows his real name. He was into stealing high end cars and moving them into the hands of people who could ship them out. Me and Ian thought we’d be cool and drove around in a car he’d stolen. So Lishman kinda had to bail us out if he didn’t want his son implicated.”

“Wow.” Mickey huffed. “Just when I thought this shit couldn’t get any more fucked up.”

Lip pulled an e-cigarette out of his pocket and sucked on the end, blowing out a plume of sweet smelling vapor. “Gallaghers, man. We’re the dictionary definition of fucked up.”

Mickey’s eyes tracked Maddie as she climbed the frame to the top of the slide with Freddie hot on her heels. His shyness seemed to have been obliterated by Maddie’s steamroller attitude to being friends. 

“How’s this work then? You and your brother. Can’t be good for family relations if you’re up against each other in court.”

Lip sighed heavily. “First time it’s happened. I got assigned without knowing who the defender was going to be. Lishman used to be loaded. Lost it all in the divorce. Turns out a public defender is the best he can do. Ian’s a fuckin bleeding heart. Thinks one favor deserves another, even if the two things totally don’t equate. Anyway, we’re fine. We don’t talk shop at family dinners.”

Mickey schooled his features to look blank as he absorbed the fresh information Lip had just revealed. He didn’t want to give anything away, particularly how weird he found it that Ian would feel like he owed Lishman a favor this big. 

“Why you got such a boner for beating your brother on this one?” He finally asked. 

Lip inhaled more vapor and held his breath. “Same reason as you. He’s guilty. You think I want scum like that walking the streets just because he paid to cover his own family’s tracks? Fuck that.”

Mickey turned his head and smirked at the elder Gallagher. “You know, once you’re outta that five hundred dollar suit you ain’t such a bad guy.”

Lip laughed darkly. “Knew you’d come around eventually.”

It had been three months since Mickey last heard from Ian. Since he’d run out of Mickey’s work, to be more specific. Annoyingly, it was all Mickey seemed to be able to think about. Work was ticking along with no major issues, Gaspard was picking up some of Mickey’s paperwork slack and Mandy had finally found a new place for her and Maddie. He missed his sister and niece but it was actually nice to be able to order takeout and sit around in his pants whenever he felt like it. Mandy’s place was two blocks over and he still managed to see his niece all the time. The equilibrium in his life was making him bored and when he was bored it was harder to ignore the fact that he didn’t get laid on a regular basis. So obviously his thoughts went to the hottest guy he’d seen in a while. 

Ian. 

God, Mickey thought to himself, he really needed to scratch his itch soon. 

With his mind on Ian he decided to reach out before he thought better of it. He shot off a quick text message and threw his phone down on the coffee table before he could stress about it. A minute later he grabbed it back and reread his message. 

“ _Haven’t heard from you in a while. You alive?_ ”

He groaned loudly in the quiet room. What the actual fucking fuck was he thinking? Just as he was about to go throw himself and his phone into the Chicago River, the device beeped the incoming message tone. 

“ _After I nearly embarrassed myself to death? Yeah. I’m alive. Thanks_.”

Mickey chuckled and shook his head. It was pretty funny. It was only really Ian’s reaction to his slip of the tongue that gave the game away. Mickey wouldn’t have thought anything of it if Ian hadn’t blushed bright enough to light up the state. 

“ _Relax. Seen and heard it all in my line of work. So you’re into dudes, no biggie. I once collared a guy who was getting way too involved in the tailpipe of a car._ ”

Ian’s response was instantaneous, like he hadn’t stopped looking at his phone. 

“ _Holy shit! No way!! Jesus. Suddenly feel way better about where I stick my dick_.”

If Mickey needed more of Ian to think about, he just got it. His mouth went dry just thinking about where Ian stuck his dick. The phone beeped again in his hand. 

“ _Thanks for checking in. Court date should be set in the next couple of weeks. Gonna need that evidence before then._ ”

Mickey hissed at the sudden change in direction their messages had taken. Fucking Gallagher and his fucking ridiculous habit of getting under his skin. 

“ _Whatever you say Hotshot_.”

Mickey turned his phone off then. He couldn’t bear to carry on with their chat now Ian had brought it back to Lishman. The whole thing troubled him and he hated that he didn’t feel in control of this case. Too many Gallaghers spoiling the broth. 

And now he was too irritated to jerk off again. _Ian Gallagher, you got a lot to answer for,_ Mickey huffed under his breath. 

It was Friday later the same week when Mickey was just leaving work and his phone rang. It was Lyle, the cyber nerd, and Mickey wasn’t expecting to hear from him since he’d already handed over the logs for Lishman’s computer. 

“Hey Lyle.”

“Yo, Detective, you busy?”

“Just heading out. And call me Mickey. What’s up?”

“I got something. Can you meet?”

Mickey felt his pulse quicken. The feeling of smelling blood in the water always gave him a rush. 

“Sure. There’s a bar across from the precinct. Picklers. Meet me there. I’ll get you a beer in.”

Derek was behind the bar when Mickey ordered two beers. 

“Gaspard coming along?”

Mickey shook his head. “Nah. Some kid helping me with a case.”

Derek nodded and glanced at the door. “When you say kid do you mean an actual kid?”

Mickey glanced over his shoulder and laughed when he saw Lyle in the doorway. He was tall and skinny with blond hair, blue eyes and a baby face that made look like a college freshman at best. 

“I swear, he’s Benjamin fuckin Button.” Mickey laughed to Derek as he raised his arm to wave Lyle over. 

“You old enough to be in here son?” Derek addressed Lyle when he stepped over to the bar. 

Mickey rolled his eyes and picked up the beers, directing Lyle to his usual table. “Ignore him. He hasn’t had a new customer in years.”

Lyle just chuckled easily like he heard jokes about his age every day. He raised his glass in thanks before taking a sip. 

“So, what’s going on?” Mickey took a gulp of his own drink. 

“The weirdest thing.” Lyle stated and reached into his messenger bag. “This was on my desk when I got into work today.”

One of the things Mickey liked best about Lyle, and had him thinking they could form a good working relationship in the future, was that Lyle didn’t fuck about. He knew Mickey’s focus was on the case and so that meant his was too. It was rare. It was also the reason Mickey got on so well with Gaspard. 

Lyle placed a brown envelope with nothing written on the front on the table and nudged it over to Mickey, who picked it up and looked inside. There was a single sheet of paper inside. Mickey retrieved it and opened it up to find a short typed paragraph. 

“Ned Lishman has a private Instagram account. He uses it to communicate with people he shouldn’t. Set up under fake info. Check it out. @drfeeeeeelgood21”

Mickey’s eyes widened in disbelief. “We didn’t know about this one?”

“Drfeeeeeelgood? Yuk. Nope. We only checked out his public, douchey profile. There wasn’t an indication of further accounts on the first run. He’s covered his tracks well.” Lyle shuddered. 

“Okay. This is good. This is promising. Have you checked it out yet?”

Mickey noticed the slightly change in Lyle’s expression. His blond eyebrows knitted in and his color changed from pale to very fucking pale. 

“Yeah. It’s...erm...well it’s Pandora’s fucking box that’s what it is.”

Mickey sat back in his seat and took a breath. Lyle was busy gulping down his beer so Mickey went to order a couple more. When they settled back with their fresh drinks Mickey nodded for Lyle to continue. 

“There’s messages. Photos. Videos. It’s fucking _dark_ , Mickey.” Lyle said softly. 

“Shit.”

“Yeah. Shit is right. It goes back years. Like, years and years. He’s been on this shit for decades.” 

Mickey gulped. “Fuck. It’s definitely him? No squirming out of it. No blaming the cleaner. Definitely him?”

Lyle nodded. “He’s in the photos. And videos. Gross, by the way, and if we can get his bank records there’s a whole sugar daddy thing going on where these kids request gifts and he buys them. We can link him to purchases.”

“You got any idea who dropped pandora in your lap?”

Lyle shook his head over the rim of his glass. “I checked the cameras and it was delivered by Postmates driver with a pizza. Wish I’d gotten the restaurant details. Best pizza I ever had.”

“Really?” Mickey snorted. 

“Yeah. Then I watched the videos. Didn’t taste so good on the return journey.” Lyle scowled. 

Mickey laughed softly. “Okay. This is good. Real good. I’ll subpoena his financials and see what we got.”

Lyle drained his glass and coughed. “Sorry. It’s been a day.”

“Another?”

Lyle hesitated. “I shouldn’t. I’m meeting some friends at a club later...”

“One more to get you in the mood.”

Lyle smirked and tilted his head. “Okay. On one condition...”

“What’s that?”

“You come to the club with me.”

Mickey stared at the man-child with his teasing smirk and saw the expectation in his eyes that Mickey going to refuse. Well more fool him. 

“Fine. But you’re buying me a burger on the way.”

So, yeah. That’s how Detective Mikhailo Milkovich of the CPD ended up in one of the trashiest clubs in Boystown later that night. 

“Not what you expected?” Lyle teased with wiggling eyebrows. 

The Mickey of a decade ago would’ve knocked the brows clean off Lyle’s face for doing this to him. 

“You’re a punk, you know that?”

Lyle cackled, his previous apprehension of Mickey completely gone. “Come on. Let’s get a drink.”

The club was an almost exact replica of Babylon from Queer As Folk. The dark, shady corners and the strobe lights. The couples grinding on each other on the sticky dance floor. The overpriced Jack and Cokes. Skimpy thongs on muscled podium gods. 

“Where the hell have you brought me?” Mickey groaned. “1992?”

“It’s retro!” Lyle giggled. “Relax and enjoy its charm!”

Mickey plastered himself against a pillar and watched others enjoy the charm. Lyle and his friends were young and fun, lip syncing and dancing to 80s classics like they were being judged by Mama Ru herself. It made Mickey feel a little past his best. Being closeted and then straight into the police force meant Mickey hadn’t really experienced all that these clubs had to offer. If he was looking to get laid he would hit up some of the more discreet bars with a different vibe about then. But this was okay. Lyle checked on him periodically and dragged him to the bar when his drink ran low. 

“You don’t have to stay.” The younger man yelled over the top of Freda Payne warbling about her Band of Gold. “I can see it pains you. You’re a rough n tough detective. I get that this makes you uncomfortable.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Relax, Dr Phil. I just wasn’t expecting so much neon and spandex.”

Lyle nodded solemnly. “I should’ve given you a heads up. Gay bars aren’t for everyone.”

“I didn’t even know you’re gay.” Mickey added. 

“Bi. Equal opportunities. I allow everyone the honor of knocking me back.” Lyle smirked wryly and made Mickey chuckle. 

“Tsk. Fuckin greedy!” He joked and Lyle’s face lit up with amusement. His arm looped around Mickey’s neck and pulled him in so they were pressed together at their sides. 

“You’re funny, you know, for a straight guy.”

Mickey scoffed. “Who the fuck said I was straight?”

Lyle’s eyes widened in horror at his faux pas. “You...you’re...what...you’re?”

Mickey nodded along like the kid was completely dense. “Gay. Yes. At least I know how to pick a side.”

“Oh. My. God.” Lyle exhaled shallowly. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t...oh my days...”

Mickey cut him off with an elbow to the ribs that had Lyle stepping to the side away from Mickey. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

Lyle still looked concerned he’d upset Mickey and it made the older man amused as hell. 

“Are you, like, out?”

Mickey glanced around and twirled his finger in the air. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

Their drinks appeared on the bar and Mickey grabbed up his bottle of Bud. Lyle followed him back to their group and tried to entice him to dance one more time. Mickey shook his head firmly. 

“I’m gay. But not this gay.” He joked with a smirk and leaned against his shaded pillar. 

From his spot in the shadows he really got to enjoy the perks of being a wallflower. Hot guys shimmied by and winked at him. Beautiful men swayed on the dance floor in his direct eye line. It was an amazing thing. This place wasn’t his scene. But really. But that didn’t stop his eyes scanning the club as he absorbed it all. That’s when he saw him. 

Ian _fucking_ Gallagher. 

He was on the dance floor but he wasn’t dancing. Mickey’s heart stuttered for a second at the sudden recognition he felt for the man. He watched closely. Taking in Ian’s shape and form in his tight black jeans and a fitted grey henley shirt. His red hair caught the strobe lights and lit up like fire. Did he have, yes! His eyes were framed with a smudge of kohl eyeliner. 

_Fuck_ , Mickey groaned internally, blood rushing around his body. 

His eyes remained fixed on Ian’s pale skin glowing under the lights. Mickey didn’t use words like beautiful. Not to describe guys. They were hot. Cute, maybe. But Ian was undeniably beautiful. And it was stirring something in Mickey’s body that he didn’t recognize. His eyes roamed all over Ian’s frame so intently that he didn’t immediately notice the guy moving to Ian’s side. The redhead grinned brightly and slipped his arm around the shoulder of the other guy, pulling him into a hug. The guy was young. Very young. Like, the door security probably triple checked his ID before they let him in. Flawless black skin with a smile that could light the room. It made Mickey reel back into his hiding place. Suddenly Ian was grabbing the kid by the hand and leading him to the middle of the floor, forcing him to twirl as they both laughed joyfully. Rage started to bubble inside Mickey. Was this why Ian was so unconcerned about defending Lishman? Because he liked them young too? It made Mickey’s skin crawl. 

“Mick? You okay?”

Lyle was in front of Mickey now, blocking his few of the packed dance floor. 

Mickey nodded. “Sure. Gotta take a leak.”

Lyle took the bottle of beer that Mickey was thrusting into his hands and pointed to the far side of the dance floor. “Over there.”

Of course the restroom _had_ to be over there. Of fucking course he had no choice but to pass Ian fucking Gallagher on his way to hide from Ian _fucking_ Gallagher. He fixed his eyes to the neon sign with a man crossing his legs and set off toward it like it was Mecca. He almost made it. He really thought he’d made it. Until...

“Mickey?”

His feet kept moving but cool fingers wrapped around his wrist and turned him slowly. Any hopes of it being literally any one of the other people he'd ever met in his life were quickly dashed when he was met with the full force of Ian’s smile. 

“I thought it was you!”

Mickey shrugged petulantly. “So?”

He hated that his instincts about Ian being a decent guy were seemingly way off the mark. He may as well hand in his badge right now. 

Ian glanced around the room, stopping for an extra second on two guys tying their tonsils together right next to them, and then settled his gaze back on Mickey. “Surprised, that’s all.”

“You and me both.” Mickey retorted and held his breath as Ian’s companion returned to his side. 

“Mickey, this is Liam. He’s...”

Mickey held up a hand abruptly. “Don’t wanna know. Don’t care. See ya.”

He left in a cloud of distaste, not missing the myriad of emotions that flickered over Ian’s face. 

Mickey thought he’d gotten away with it. He thought Ian would know the score and stay away. Who the fuck introduces their barely legal whatever-the-fuck to a serving detective in the CPD? It was career and personal suicide. So when Ian burst into the men’s room and barged up to Mickey with his green eyes flashing like emeralds in the sun, he didn’t really know what to do. 

“What the fuck was that? Where do you get off being so rude?”

Mickey stared open-mouthed at Ian. The redhead towered over him, glaring mutinously. 

“Back the fuck up. I ain’t talking to you with my dick in my hand.” Mickey growled. 

Ian took a step back but his expression didn’t change. “Did you follow me here?”

Mickey tucked himself away and pushed past Ian to wash his hands. He couldn’t hold back the derisive snort. 

“Fuck off. Why would I follow you? You need something from me, not the other way around.”

Ian stood behind him so they made eye contact in the grimy mirror over the sink. “I don’t need anything from you.”

Their eyes bored into each other until Mickey wrenched himself away. 

“Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart. See ya.”

Mickey stormed out of the men’s room with Ian hot on his heels. He grabbed Mickey by the upper arm and turned him so he was pressed against the wall in the dimly lit passageway back to the dance floor. 

“Get your hands off me before I have you lifted for assault on a police officer.” Mickey snarled. 

Truthfully, he couldn’t understand how or why this had escalated so quickly. Sure, they were hardly best buds but really this could be avoided if Ian just kept his fucking distance. 

“Why are you here?” Ian ignored Mickey completely and leaned closer to hear over the thumpa thumpa of the music. 

“None of your fucking concern. Take your hands off me, tough guy.” 

That only made Ian’s nostrils flare in annoyance. 

“You find out I’m gay so you come around here looking to what? Intimidate me?”

Mickey barked another dry laugh. “Are you kidding me? How much moon dust you been shoving up your nose to make you this paranoid? Jesus. You’re not the only gay dude in the city.”

Ian’s eyes widened and Mickey could’ve kicked himself for letting his one bit of leverage slip away. 

“You’re gay?” Ian blurted out. “Seriously?”

Mickey fought his blush. He wasn’t giving this asshole the satisfaction of making him squirm. With a violent shrug he shoved Ian’s arm away and squared up to him. 

“Fuck off back to your twink and leave me alone. I want nothing to do with this shit show. You got me?”

He took off along the corridor, dodging people as they floated past to get to the restrooms. Ian still wasn’t giving up. He trailed Mickey to the dance floor and snagged his hand again. Mickey whirled around and grabbed a handful of fabric from Ian’s shirt. 

“Don’t...” Mickey went to snap something hurtful but was stopped in his tracks by Ian’s eyes flashing with something like fear. Ian’s pink tongue flicked out to wet his dry lips and Mickey’s eyes followed the movement he was suddenly hyper aware that they were standing so close together. Mickey’s itch was crying out to be scratched and Ian was looming over him looking like he was about to eat Mickey up. 

“Mickey...” Ian whispered, his expression almost shell-shocked. 

Mickey narrowed his eyes. “Don’t fucking talk.”

This was a bad idea. Such a terribly bad idea. But that didn’t stop Mickey shoving Lishman and the entire case to the back of his mind and yanking Ian down so their lips and teeth clashed together. 

“Oh fuck.” Ian exhaled and delved deeper into the kiss, sucking on Mickey’s bottom lip and teasing it with his tongue. 

“No talking.” Mickey grunted, pressing closer and kissing harder. “ _Fuck_.”

Ian was all around him. Consuming him. His large hand cupped the back of Mickey’s skull and held him in place while he ravaged his mouth. Mickey was powerless to stop the onslaught, not that he wanted to. Ian dipped and pushed and pulled until Mickey was grinding on him and feeling their hardness brush together. 

“Ian?” A loud voice calling out across the floor broke into their heads and it was the pause Mickey needed to get his level head back. He leapt back from Ian, lifting his fingers to brush his kiss-swollen lips, and narrowed his eyes to dangerous points. The kid - Liam? - appeared next to them with a huge grin on his face. 

“There you are! Ian, this place is so cool! No wonder you hit the clubs when you were a toddler.”

Ian was still stunned and silent, gazing at Mickey. Mickey’s stomach turned at the kid’s words and he went to move away. How could he get something so wrong? How could he let some guy do this to him?

“Brother!” Ian yelped when Mickey started to walk away. “He’s my brother!”

Mickey turned back and glanced at Liam then back to Ian with a mocking sneer. “Sure.”

“He is!” Ian insisted. “Definitely.”

Mickey shrugged widely. “Whatever man. I’m outta here. And this? Never. Fucking. Happened.”

Lyle was at the bar again when Mickey made his way back to his corner. Mickey gestured for a drink and a moment later Lyle was back with his beer. 

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Mickey glowered at him. “Something like that.”

“Changed your mind about dancing yet?”

Lyle laughed happily when Mickey flipped him off. “You’re a hoot!”

Mickey didn’t sleep that night. Thoughts swirled around in his brain. Lishman and the stuff that had dropped into Lyle’s lap, seeing Ian looking like a goddamn snack, kissing the face off of said snack. It was a mess. Who had the info on Lishman? Why did they go to lengths to hide their identity? Why was Ian always able to push his way to the front of Mickey’s mind? It was unsettling. He was off work for the weekend and he vowed to spend it catching up with Mandy and Maddie and absolutely not with his hand down his pants thinking of Ian fucking Gallagher.

“Mick, you’re doing that thing again.”

Mickey looked over at his sister, who was loading up the washing machine in her new kitchen. “Hm?”

“Yeah, that. What’s going on with you? You’re miles away.”

He shrugged and picked at the toast on the plate in front of him. “Just a lot on my mind.”

“Anything I can help with?”

Mickey raised one brow and used his blunt fingernail to scrape the burned edges off the bread. “Nope. Work stuff.”

Mandy chuckled. “Oh thank god. I was worried it was going to be boy stuff.”

Mickey’s whole body clenched and his face started to heat up. Mandy turned to look over at him and caught it, cackling gleefully. 

“It IS boy stuff!”

“Mandy...” Mickey tried to sound warning but he just came off sounding tired. And he was. His brain was tired. Thinking about every facet of his interactions with Ian had him exhausted. 

“Come on. You can tell me. Is he fit? Cute? Where did you meet? Have you fucked him?”

“MANDY!” Mickey roared. “Shut up!”

Mandy’s grin twisted into a sneer. “You’re gonna die old and lonely in Gaspard’s spare room if you don’t grow the fuck up.”

So spending time with family didn’t work. Mickey went back to work just to focus his mind on other things and got to looking at the data Lyle sent over to him before their night out from hell. Mickey nearly gagged when he read the material. Lishman was one fucked up wrinkly ball sack. 

“What’s going on?”

Mickey jolted in his seat. “Huh?”

His boss, Captain Baker, folded his arms across his chest and loomed over him. “Did I sign off on overtime?”

Mickey huffed and shook his head. “Just getting ahead on my case. Gonna be in court soon. Need to be ready.”

Baker sniffed. “Sure.”

His looming presence didn’t move so Mickey looked up again. “Anything else you need?”

Baker’s eyes rolled at Mickey’s attitude. “You seem to be letting this one under your skin. Just checking all is well.”

Mickey prickled at his words. Baker was referring to the case. Mickey’s brain went straight to Ian. 

“I’m fine. Just want this one done.”

“Understood.” Baker nodded once. “I’m gonna say this once - because there’s nobody around to hear me - you’re a damn fine detective Mickey. I like your style and I even like your attitude sometimes.”

Mickey blushed slightly but rolled his eyes. “Thanks boss.”

“That being said, I also think you need to have something else in your life besides this job. Something to help you switch off. It can be too much. What we see. You know? Need something...someone...to be there for you.”

Mickey coughed uncomfortably. He didn’t have these kind of chats with Baker. Never. It made him feel like the man was dying. 

“Is this what a performance review is supposed to feel like?” Mickey drawled. 

Baker shook his head and swiped his hand close to Mickey’s face. “Smart ass.”

Mickey laughed to break the tension. “I will take your feedback on board, sir.”

With a nod, Baker walked away and left Mickey alone in the room feeling very perturbed. Before he got a chance to think too hard about Baker’s words of wisdom, his phone burst into song and scared the shit out of him. 

“What?” He snapped down the line. 

“Good to hear your pleasant tones, Mick.”

“Why is it always the sound of a Gallagher I hear just before my day goes to shit?”

Lip paused before he laughed. “We haven’t talked for a while so I guess Ian’s been busting your balls...”

The thought of Ian going anywhere near his balls had Mickey’s body betraying him again. 

“What do you want?” Mickey snapped. 

“As weird as it is to say this, Freddie has been asking me non-stop if he can hang out with Maddie again. You think maybe we can sort out a play date?” Lip replied, his voice hesitant like Mickey was going to laugh and shoot him down. 

“I dunno, man. I don’t have access to her social diary.” 

It wasn’t a no. And Lip seemed happy to cling to that. 

“Drop me a message if you can make it to the park next weekend.”

Mickey sighed heavily and tried to think how his life had come to this. “Sure. I’ll check in with my sister later.”

“Thanks Mickey. It’s just...uh...Fred doesn’t make friends easily.”

“Oh yeah? Well Mads makes friends with lampposts so the kid didn’t stand a chance.”

Lip chuckled in relief. “Yeah. That’s good.”

Mickey was about to hang up when the case file in front of him brought his thoughts back to work. 

“We need to meet this week. I got a shitload of stuff you catch you up on.”

“Sounds interesting. I’ll swing by the precinct tomorrow.”

Lip paced the interrogation room like a caged animal while Mickey sat back and watched. 

“And you have no idea where this came from?”

Mickey shook his head. “Nope.”

“And it’s verified?”

“Yep. My guy in the cyber lab checked out all out. Links back to Lishman twelve ways from Sunday.”

“Your guy?” Lip half-sneered. “Is he any good?”

“He’s the only one getting us anywhere near a fucking conviction so I guess that answers your question.” Mickey bristled at the thought of anyone talking shit about Lyle. The kid had been a fucking godsend. 

“Okay. Does Ian know about this?”

Mickey shook his head. “He’s been chasing my ass for our evidence file for weeks. He ain’t seen shit yet.”

“Fuck. We’re gonna have to disclose.”

“Are we?” Mickey raised his eyebrows. “I mean...what if my guy took his sweet time getting this all signed off and verified? I hear he’s got vacation days coming up. Won’t be free for a while...”

Lip nodded along as he absorbed Mickey’s implication. “If we ambush Ian in court he’ll file a motion to dismiss.”

“On what grounds?” Mickey snorted. 

“He’ll think of something.”

“And he’ll get laughed out of court.” 

Lip pursed his lips and stopped in front of Mickey. “Is this gonna work?”

“Yes.” Mickey sounded more sure than he actually was but Lip didn’t seem to notice. 

“Ian will do everything he can to punch holes in this. Ideally we need to know where this came from. Who handed it over. We’re open to get burned here.” Lip warned. 

Mickey sighed loudly. “It’s the best we’ve got. I’m working on tightening it up but for now it’s our best shot at getting him locked up.”

Lip finally nodded. “Okay. Let’s keep this under wraps for now.”

Mickey saluted and opened the door for them to leave the room. Lip followed him back to the office where Mickey locked away the files in his desk. Gaspard nodded a greeting and got back to his computer. 

“Oh...we’re on for Saturday. My sister is working so I’m on babysitting duty.”

He pointedly ignored Gaspard’s eyebrow arching in surprise and waited for Lip to leave. 

“Awesome. See you about 11.”

When he was gone Gaspard cracked up laughing. “The fuck was that? You’re going on dates with the ADA now?”

“Fuck you. His kid and Maddie are BFFs now.”

“Sure. And you two are just two guys who don’t get on at all.”

“Fuck. You.”

Friday came around again and Gaspard treated Mickey to a beer at Picklers. With the game on and a few beers inside him, Mickey found the events of the last week crashing over him. 

“Spit it out.”

Mickey glared at his partner, who never seemed to miss when he had any kind of inner turmoil going on. “What?”

“You got something on your mind. It’s like the cogs are whirring but the train’s off the track. What’s going on?”

Mickey downed his pint in record time and then belched loudly. “Not drunk enough for a heart to heart Benji.”

Gaspard turned to the bar and waved like he was flagging down a jumbo jet. “Gonna need some shots over here.”

An hour later and Mickey was groaning into his pint glass as Gaspard finished the last of the shots on the plank. 

“I kissed him.”

The sting of the tequila twisted Gaspard’s face into a shuddering scowl, which promptly turned into a surprised stare. 

“Who? What?”

“Gallagher. I kissed him. Or he kissed me. I dunno. But we kissed. Is kissed even a real word? _Kiss_ -ed. Kiss- _ed_. Kiss _sss_ ssed. Ugh. It’s a mess.”

Gaspard held up his left hand. “Hold up. Which Gallagher are we talking about here? The one you wanna bump uglies with or the one you go on dates with?”

Mickey glared witheringly and rubbed his mouth. “This is why I don’t share my personal shit.”

“Relax. I’m joking. So...you made out with the hotshot public defender who wants your ass in the courtroom as well as bedroom huh?”

Gaspard was trying and failing to not laugh and finally Mickey joined in, blushing a little. 

“Yeah. Guess so.”

“You always make stellar choices.”

Mickey flipped him off. “It was a one time drunken mistake that is never gonna happen again. So keep your mouth shut. I don’t want Lip or any other fucker thinking I can’t do my job.”

Gaspard zipped his lips and mimed throwing away the key. “Only...”

“Ben!”

“Hear me out! Only...you kinda don’t look happy about it never happening again.”

Mickey snorted and pushed his beer away. “He drives me crazy. We’d end up killing each other.”

“Sounds like passion to me.”

“I hate that he defends assholes like Lishman.”

“He’s probably not that thrilled about it either.”

“He’s egotistical, entitled and...and...”

“Gorgeous?” Gaspard grinned widely. 

“Yeah. But hands off he’s mine.” Mickey laughed along. “Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.”

He dropped his head onto the table and groaned, Gaspard reaching over to pat the back of his neck. 

“Look Mickey, it’s inevitable when you think about it.”

Mickey turned his head to the side and cracked one eye open. “More pearls of wisdom?”

“Just one more.” Gaspard grinned. “You’ve never dated before. Never fallen for anyone. In all the years I’ve known you, you haven’t looked twice at anyone. Why do you think that is?”

“Most guys are assholes?”

“Most guys don’t come close to your level.”

Mickey lifted his head and sat back in his seat, staring at Gaspard in stunned silence. 

“Yeah. That’s what I said.” Gaspard snickered. “You’re a special breed, Mikhailo. A force. You couldn’t settle for some mediocre pretty boy.”

Mickey continued to stare at his partner like they were meeting for the first time. Words popped up into his head that didn’t make it to his tongue. 

“That’s why this guy has hit you hard. He’s a force too. Together, you two could rule the world.”

“Or make it implode.” Mickey scoffed. 

Gaspard just shrugged. “Part of the fun is finding out.”

After a long few moments of reflection Mickey stumbled to his feet, the alcohol rushing to his knees. He pulled on his jacket and pocketed his phone. 

“Where are you going?” Gaspard smirked. 

Mickey gulped down the last of his beer and gave Gaspard a sloppy hug. “I’m gonna go find out.”

It was a long shot. Just because Ian had been dancing up a storm here last Friday night didn’t mean he’d be back again. Mickey had sobered up on the walk to the club but he was still buzzed from the shots Gaspard virtually poured down his neck. He lurked in the shadows again, watching intently for any sign of blazing red hair under neon lights. It had been an hour and Mickey was starting to regret his choices in life. His beer was warm and his heart thudded in his throat. When the DJ switched the track and dropped Dancing Queen by ABBA Mickey knew he was out of his depth here. 

“Time to go.” He muttered to himself and downed his warm Bud. He gave himself a mental ticking off as he moved to the exit, vowing with every fiber of his being to put the ginger asshole to the dark recesses of his mind and focus all of his attention on winning his case. Enough was finally enough for Mickey and he was convinced he needed this new level of humiliation to make himself wake up and smell the coffee. He made it all the way to the cloakroom. He was almost out of the door. 

“Mickey?”

That voice. That fucking voice! The insecure yet confident juxtaposition Mickey heard in his dreams. He turned slowly and found the ginger asshole gazing down at him, his green eyes framed with kohl once again. 

“Back again?” Ian teased gently. 

Mickey closed the gap and shoved Ian against the wall in the dimly lit corridor. “If we do this, it’s between us.”

“Do what?” Ian taunted, eyes blazing. 

Mickey yanked him down so their lips grazed. “Shut the fuck up.”

Ian didn’t speak again. He let Mickey lead their second kiss and it had all the intensity of their first. Finally Mickey had to pull away to breathe and stared at Ian hard. 

“You wanna do this?”

Ian cocked his head to the side. “Do _you_?”

Mickey grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to the exit. “Between us, Gallagher. That’s the rule.”

“You and your rules.” Ian chuckled merrily as Mickey dragged him onto the sidewalk. A cab pulled up and Mickey opened the door for them. 

“Last chance, Gallagher...”

Ian stared him down for another loaded moment in time. A smile finally broke out and curled his lips upward. “Okay, Mick. You win this time. It’s just between us.”

Mickey giggled to himself as he followed Ian into the back seat of the cab. “You know, I love hearing you say that.”

Ian pounced into a kiss. “Don’t get used to it.”


End file.
